


A Matter of Timing

by Princess of Geeks (Princess)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: First Time, M/M, Romance, Season 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-28
Updated: 2010-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-12 00:04:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess/pseuds/Princess%20of%20Geeks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that Jack is in Washington, and is not Daniel's CO any more, that makes certain things possible. Or would, if Daniel didn't have... ISSUES.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Timing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hsapiens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hsapiens/gifts).



Jack leaned back in his chair, his hands cupped around the glass on the white linen tablecloth, savoring the burn of brandy in the back of his throat and watching Daniel sip his after-dinner coffee. Jack, on his own Washington turf, had chosen the restaurant and had made sure to get their reservation on the night that his two favorite waiters were working.  
  
And he had chosen brandy instead of a sweet for dessert. He felt it balanced the rich aftertaste of the exquisite meal they'd just enjoyed. Daniel, however, had ordered chocolate. He had emerged from his orgasmic enjoyment long enough to gift Jack with one slightly grudging bite of the ganache, and he had, of course, ordered coffee.

Jack noted, smiling on the inside, that when his second-favorite waiter had brought Daniel's cake, he'd brought two forks without being asked. Daniel hadn't seemed to notice. He'd given Jack the bite off his own fork.

Jack had asked Daniel out on what amounted to a romantic date, but Daniel, it seemed, was so used to their boundary-less friendship that he'd simply accepted what Jack had meant for a signal. So, Jack sighed. Time to ramp it up. He was going to have to resort to more drastic action.

Because it was time, he'd told himself, when he'd made the decision about this date. Then he'd worried, and had had to tell himself again. Over and over, he listed the reasons why the time was now: They weren't getting any younger. Absence had indeed made the heart grow fonder, and the heart more darn aware of the preciousness of every passing day. Jack wasn't on a front line team any more, and wasn't Daniel's CO. But that didn't make his heart stop pounding. Funny how he could face Senators and your stray, average Goa'uld with less trepidation, nowadays, than what he had realized he was about to do.

Yeah. Funny, that.

He took another sip of brandy. Daniel's dessert plate was scraped clean, showing only the merest smudge of the raspberry-sauce "Z" that the kitchen had painted on the china. The snifter, Daniel's mug, one white plate and one fork were the only things left on the table between them, beside the little flickering romantic lamp. Their waiter had gone over the linen with a little shiny scoopy thing, catching up crumbs, before the dessert came out. It was that kind of restaurant. Fancy and exquisite as D.C. could offer. The place you brought European ambassadors in order to impress them.

It was time. And since Daniel had not picked up on the romantic ambience, Jack was going to have to give him a verbal nudge.

"I always wondered," Jack said, making himself watch the swirl of liquor in the little balloon glass, how it painted the inside of the crystal with curls of transparent amber, instead of focusing on Daniel's face, "why you never remarried."

There was no immediate answer. Jack took a quiet breath and looked. Daniel's eyebrows were up, and he was staring at Jack over his glasses, his hand still on his coffee cup. His expression said, "What the fuck?"

Jack held his stare, keeping his face neutral. Eventually Jack said into his silence, "The coffee must be really good here. Since you didn't want any cream."

Daniel's expression went far-away and distracted. Finally he said, "I guess I never found the right person." His tone was light. Jack believed the tone was a subterfuge. Jack noted Daniel did not say "woman." He said "person." Daniel thought for a while, and then his gaze intensified again, and sharpened on Jack's face. He looked positively eager, and he was about to open his mouth. Jack could feel it.

 _Careful,_ Jack said, inside. _One step at a time, and not too much in public._

Jack said, "You know, maybe I shouldn't have started this conversation here. Maybe I should have waited till we got back to my place."

Like directing an orchestra of cats. Jesus.

"I..." The effort it took for Daniel to tear his gaze from Jack's now was visible. Jack felt the removal of that gaze like he would feel the closing of a door on a warm room, or the sensation of stepping away from a fire. He made himself look down, take a deep breath, and another sip. Daniel got it. Jack's heart was still pounding. It was an effort not to fiddle with the silverware.

"It was the chain of command stuff, then," Daniel said, finally, to his coffee cup. "I honestly didn't know."

Jack exhaled. He ordered himself not to sag back in the chair. Even his fingertips went cold with relief. "Yeah," Jack said. "It was that."

"Ah," Daniel said. He looked around the restaurant, as if seeing it for the first time. "And so this is a date, then." The corner of his mouth quirked. An expression of pleased shyness was replacing his frowny, single-minded focus.

 _Well,_ Jack thought. _You really are a genius, Doctor Jackson._ His mind might have known that Daniel would quickly get on the same page, but his body was still just a little shocked.

Daniel looked into his cup, as if there were tea leaves down in there to read, and Jack watched the wheels turn as Daniel searched back mentally over a decade of data.

Then Jack's hunter's vision caught their waiter, hanging on his heel, watching the two of them, hesitating, calculating, and then the guy turned away and went to the workstation in the corner and chatted up one of his colleagues, who was doing something with the computer that was actually a cash register. Jack smiled with one corner of his mouth. Yeah, this was indeed a very good restaurant. As good as its reputation, even. And that was a rare thing.

What Daniel eventually came up with, was the answer to Jack's original question. He was still looking down at his cup as he began to speak.

"Because: At first, and for a long time, I was just stunned, and full of grief, and then I was discouraged, and beaten, and then I was ... glowy," and Jack wanted to press his lips to that hesitating smile, wanted Daniel to raise his eyes from his cup so he could read the love shining in Jack's and then Jack wouldn't have to say anything else at all and they could get out of here and skip, finally, miraculously, straight to the touching holding closeness skin-contact part, "and then, I dated a little and realized that none of those people out there," he waved his hand at the room, at the room full of soft-spoken, well-groomed, upper-class Washington elite, dismissing them along with all the other denizens of his home planet, _except one_ , Jack silently and hopefully interjected.

"...none of the people out here--" and Daniel, finally, met Jack's eyes, the contact a solid jolt, and their glance connecting was how he finished the sentence. And Daniel was smiling. The combined buzz of the intent glance and sweet smile went all the way down Jack's spine and settled in his ass and his balls. _"--were you,"_ Daniel wasn't saying, at the end of the sentence. But he was looking it.

Jack smiled. Daniel dropped his glance again. He drank the last of his coffee. His smile settled in the corners of his mouth and in his eyebrows. Jack raised a hand without looking around for the waiter. He pretty much counted on the guy to be watching for it.

"And then I was frozen," Jack said softly, "and then there was Kerry, and the promotions, and one thing and another. So I, you know, kinda lost track there. That's on me."

Daniel sighed. "My--" and he cleared his throat, "affections weren't really worth keeping track of in those days, I'm afraid. I'm not proud of that, but. In there, before Tagelus, before Jacob's death, I went after Sarah Gardner again. Pretty hard. For a while. I thought--"

"You don't have to--" Jack started.

"I know. This isn't therapy night for me or something," Daniel interrupted. "It's okay. It's not dredging anything up. It's just history; nothing more." And Daniel's smile was sad, but his eyes were kind and still a bit amazed.

Jack, out of the corner of his eye, could see the waiter approaching with a little black leather folder.

After a moment, Daniel went on. "For reasons that don't really matter now, at all, water under the bridge and all that, I went after her, but she wanted nothing to do with me, or with archaeology, or with anything at all that reminded her of what had happened. She couldn't stay in the States; too many memories, she said. She went home to her parents, and cut me off quite severely and quite thoroughly. And then later I had a kind of a fling with Catherine Langford's niece, actually." Daniel hitched his shoulders and did that jerking thing with his neck, a signal of reluctance and confession. The waiter had slipped the folder onto the corner of the table by Jack's elbow and vanished again without interrupting.

Jack nodded. He'd known about Sabrina Gosling. He didn't need to tell Daniel that, which would serve only to confirm the reality of the surveillance, but Jack had known.

"But..." Daniel said, and shrugged. "I wasn't in love with her."

"Well, I'm sure for the time being you have your hands full with Vala, so it's not like you're lacking for women in your life. To say nothing of Carter, of course."

And Daniel burst out laughing. Threw his head back and laughed until his shoulders shook, and he pulled off his glasses -- Jack still wasn't used to the new ones, the new shape -- and rubbed his eyes. Jack was pretty sure Daniel was relieved that Jack felt comfortable enough to mention Carter. There was a lot they weren't saying, in among everything they were, now. A lot of assumptions. A lot of water under the bridge. But it was nice to get on the same page about the history.

Jack put the credit card in the folder, and when the waiter collected it and brought it back again, pretty much immediately, Jack glanced at the total, added the tip and signed the check while Daniel got through chuckling and rubbing his eyes and hopefully venting all the remaining tension that Jack's question had prompted. Jack knew Daniel could process the new knowledge Jack had handed him, at least intellectually, this fast. He wasn't sure about the other, non-intellectual types of acceptance. But he had hope.

When Jack looked up from writing, Daniel was watching him with unmasked fondness, mixed with a kind of unbelieving yearning. It was a look Jack was immeasurably relieved to see, and one that he was sure he would never get tired of. And he hoped he had the chance to experiment with that; see exactly how long it would take to prove he'd never tire. They were done here. Jack suppressed a desire to pull Daniel's chair out and help him with his coat. Instead he stood, and waited until Daniel was standing, too, and had his suit jacket back on, and then he turned and headed for the door.

In the truck, heading back to the townhouse, Jack noticed out of the corner of his eye, (trying not to be obvious that he was trying earnestly to get some sense of the trajectory of Daniel's mood) that Daniel folded his hands in his lap and stared straight ahead. Daniel said nothing for several blocks, but then made a querulous protest about the status of some obscure line item in the SGC xeno-anthropology budget, and so they bitched some more about politics and bean-counting until they were inside the garage at Jack's place and the garage door was coming down.

"Jack, I..."

"Hm?" Jack was gathering up his sunglasses and pocketing his keys and opening the driver's side door.

"I don't know what you expect-- it's been a long time, and I--"

"Daniel."

"Jack?"

"Let's just go inside and make a pot of coffee, mmm?"

He heard Daniel sigh, and then Jack was up the steps and inside, and his heart was pounding once again as he took off his jacket and hung it on its hook, then took off his suit coat and draped it on a kitchen chair. Too much to ask that this would be simple, this next step. But with Daniel? Things were never simple. Which was, honestly, one of the reasons Jack loved him so much.

Daniel was standing there, looking confused, glancing around the bright kitchen. He'd worn a jacket but no tie, and Jack had tipped the maitre d' extra to overlook it at the restaurant. Daniel had never noticed.

Jack watched him for a long moment as Daniel stared blearily around the kitchen, and then Jack busied himself with the coffee beans and the grinder. Maybe Daniel needed some space. At least he wasn't hugging himself; that was a good sign. If he were to ask a question now, any question at all, Jack was willing to answer it. And making coffee was something to do with his hands, for now. He felt a warm, heavy touch on his shoulder. He turned, and then Daniel was folding him up, folding him in.

 _So not so much with the talking...._ His arms came up eagerly, and he pressed himself against Daniel's tall, solid length.

It wasn't the first time they'd hugged, not by a long shot, but it felt very different. Different because of the explicit knowledge they now shared, and different because there was no politeness in this hug. It was a full body, very affectionate hug. A lovers' hug. He felt Daniel smile, and then the smile rested softly against Jack's neck, which sent a warm thrill down Jack's spine. And then the smile faded.

"I want this, so much. You must know I do. But, Jack," and Daniel's hands tightened, like he was afraid of falling, "I don't know if we should.... If we can.... You're too important to me. If I fuck this up because we introduce sex? I won't be able to stand it. I'm not kidding or exaggerating. You have to believe me."

Jack tightened his arms around Daniel's middle. "It will fuck it up to introduce sex?"

"I didn't say _will_. I said _if_."

"Sex fucks things up?" Jack could allow that, theoretically, that might be true, for some people at some times, but for them, now? No way. Daniel felt so good in his arms. Warmth radiating, through his clothes -- it made Jack skip right to imagining, again, how this would feel without the clothes, nothing between his skin and Daniel's. Fleeting images from his well-thumbed stock of fantasies skittered through his mind -- pasted-together, yearning ideas of how he'd imagined Daniel would look in bed. In Jack's bed.

But Daniel huffed at Jack, "What planet have you been living on?" He wasn't moving away, despite the argument he was trying to start. He was still holding on, still hugging, and furthermore his package was firming where it pressed against Jack's, and he was doing something that resembled, okay, something that definitely _was_ , nuzzling. Another tingle down Jack's spine.

"A different one than you, apparently, even yet," Jack said. He began to nudge Daniel gently toward the door to the hallway, began to turn him. He hadn't had a chance to finish making the coffee, but oh well. The beans would still be in the grinder in the morning. "In my experience, professor, sex or no sex, things may very well get fucked up. But that's not about the sex. It's about other things. Outside things."

Daniel resisted being chivvied toward the hallway. He took Jack's shoulder and pulled back so he could study Jack's face. "I don't want to ruin our friendship," he insisted. "I've lived without being intimate with you for this long; I know for certain I can do that. But if this goes wrong? So wrong that I lose you again, entirely?"

Daniel closed his eyes and a shiver went through him. This close, Jack could see the fine tracery of his crows' feet, see the lines that concentration left in his forehead, see the barely-beginning dusting of gold in his dark hair. He smelled so good.

They were too close to resist the next move, now. And Jack had no desire to resist. Daniel had stated the situation in the negative, but that was an answer, in itself. So Jack pulled his grip up to Daniel's shoulders and tilted his own face and leaned in. He felt Daniel suppress the start when Jack's lips touched his, and Jack frowned. But Daniel didn't pull away.

The kiss felt careful, and Jack intentionally made it shallow and short. He whispered, "We can start slow. I just want to, you know, start somewhere."

Daniel frowned, but when Jack kissed him again, he cooperated and even added a few flourishes, making this second kiss long and sweet. It made Jack's knees melt. It was everything he wanted and more; he'd pretty much dreamed this kiss. Daniel's lips moved gently against his; Daniel's arms tightened around him.

But when the kiss eventually ended, and Jack pulled back, Daniel was still frowning and he didn't open his eyes. But, on the plus side, he wouldn't let Jack pull away. He brought up his hands to cup Jack's face, and delivered another kiss that became even more of a knee-melting fantasy come true. Jack realized, through the saturated warmth of Daniel's mouth, that Daniel was now gently backing him against the kitchen wall, and he groaned and went with it. Daniel pressed against him, grinding their erections together, devouring his mouth, and Jack wrapped his arms around Daniel's shoulders and let the wall take his weight. Daniel's tongue became hot and aggressive. Kissing like this made Jack light-headed. It made him lose track of his surroundings, his senses overwhelmed by Daniel's warmth and weight, by the sweet plundering pleasure of Daniel's mouth.

After an uncountable time, Daniel leaned back, breathing hard. He took Jack's hand and pulled on it, and turned to go down the hall to the bedroom of the townhouse. But his eyes were still closed.

Daniel led, and when they arrived at Jack's bed, Daniel took a deep breath. Jack could see his back expand with it, and then he stripped, and climbed in. He folded his glasses and put them on the far nightstand. Jack got very distracted from his own undressing, as he watched the play of muscles in his back and his ass. Daniel was in better shape than he'd ever been -- he'd been lifting weights for years now, and probably pushing himself to stay in the kind of shape the rest of his team maintained. He'd always been gorgeous. Now he was gorgeous and buffed.

Jack smiled and remembered what he was supposed to be doing and quickly finished taking his own clothing off. He lay down beside Daniel and gathered him close. This was it -- this was what he'd wanted. Nothing but skin. Hot, silky skin. Daniel kissed him again, hard and intently and deeply, making Jack go from hard to rock-hard, sending flames licking down his spine.

Then Daniel let go of him and turned over to lie on his stomach. And spread his legs. Jack's eyes got wide.

"I assume you have lube," Daniel said, and his voice was choked. "And I'm also assuming you've thought through the latex/no latex decision, and for the record, you can assume I'm clean. So ... yeah."

Jack, stunned, leaned hastily toward the nightstand. So much for starting slow. He found he was ready to blow from the view and the matter-of-fact talk, and he managed to get some gel out of the drawer, onto his dick and then squeeze some more onto his fingers.

Jack managed, "It's been at least a year for me. And two blood tests. Since the last time I had sex, I mean."

"All right then," Daniel said, into the pillows, and he reached back to pull his cheeks apart with shaking fingers. "You need to open me first. Because it's been longer than that for me."

"God, Daniel," Jack said, reverently, and put his dry hand on Daniel's cheek and ran careful firm fingers down the crack, pausing at the opening, where the muscles were so alive, seemingly straining to accept him before he'd tried to slip in even one finger. "God, baby, are you sure? This is how you want it? This is what you want first?"

Daniel had only talked about women, Jack thought, confusedly. Only about women. Was this what he really wanted?

He carefully massaged the blooming hole and tried to swallow. His throat was dry. Daniel was sex on legs. Jesus.

"Please. Jack. If I think about it too much that will be bad." The laugh that followed was shaky, and it made Jack frown, even as his dick jumped and his eyes squeezed closed, because Daniel had timed an aggressive push backward against the tentative easing of Jack's middle finger, and buried it to the knuckle. God, so tight and hot and slick and welcoming. Jack wanted in there, so goddamned badly.

Daniel said, still pushing back in controlled jolts, "Surely after all this time you can appreciate that I want to do something without talking it to death first."

"Jesus," Jack said, watching two of his fingers disappear. His arm was braced -- Daniel was doing it all; Daniel was fucking himself on Jack's fingers.

"Please; Jack," Daniel said again, and Jack said, "Baby," and Daniel couldn't have been more clear, but the closed eyes were bothering Jack and yet, and yet....

His mouth falling open in awe, he slowly pulled his fingers free, took hold of his shaft and lined up, watching the ripple of muscle in Daniel's buttocks and thighs, and eased in.

God.

So tight, so slick. It had been, Jesus, years, since he'd had sex with anyone without a condom. You intentionally forgot, put out of your mind because of necessity and duty, the sheer intensity of the sensation when it was bareback.

Jack's eyes fell closed and he swore time itself slowed down, letting him feel every inch, every fucking millimeter, of his entrance into Daniel's body. It was, simply, heaven. Sliding, sliding, like a firm caress, all the way down, 'til his balls were snugged against Daniel's and his shaft was squeezed by tight heat. And then he gasped, and swore, because Daniel clamped down on him and made it even tighter.

Resisting the expert play of those muscles, Jack gripped Daniel's hips a little harder and took it in the other direction. He eased almost all the way out, slowly, making Daniel groan. Jack opened his eyes at that, and was treated to the sight of new sweat sheening Daniel's back, and the way his thighs strained, pushing him toward Jack.

And again, in, slow, so slow -- all the way in, and Jack shifted his knees just a little, and cocked his hips. If he could get the angle right, if he remembered -- God, it was so different with a man. There'd been two women, three, since the last time he'd been here with a man, and he wanted to catch the gland, wanted to make it good for Daniel, so good.

It should always be good for Daniel. Always should be the very, very best. Nothing less, ever. For Daniel.

Maybe he got there, maybe he didn't; the quality of Daniel's moans didn't really change, but Jack's body knew what it wanted and made him forgot about trying to hit the prostate for Daniel's benefit, in favor of setting a slow, intense rhythm, a rhythm to rock them both, rock the mattress, and making Daniel groan and brace with one hand against the wall and push back, stroke for stroke. The tight friction on the underside of the head, the enveloping heat. It was too much. It was beautiful.

The rhythm went on, gradually building, gradually getting harder, faster. Once again, Jack lost track of time, lost in their bliss. Daniel kept groaning.

There it was -- the edge of climax was close; so close, and soon it would be right there, and Jack let himself just go for it, smooth and inexorable, because he had plans for bringing Daniel off afterward if the fucking didn't get the job done, but God, Daniel felt too good, so good, so tight, so hot.

He cried out as he shot, calling Daniel's name, then bending to put his mouth to Daniel's shoulder and the climax shook him -- it would have been a kiss if he could have controlled it better, but it was too good, too much. Too much of what he'd wanted, for so long, for forever.

He fumbled his grip away from Daniel's hips and up to his waist, bringing Daniel with him as he fell to his side, circling with his arms, and Daniel's hands were on his wrists, Daniel was wrapping Jack's arms in his own arms.

The unbelievable pleasure ebbed. Jack rested a minute, panting. Daniel held him tight.

When he freed a hand and touched Daniel's hard dick, Daniel jerked, and groaned even louder than he had before. He turned his head, scrubbing his face against the pillow again, and then he went still.

His dick was rigid and hot, and also very wet, and Jack used that and the leftover lube, guessing at how fast to stroke and how tight to squeeze, but it didn't take long until Daniel tensed even more, and came, pulsing strongly over Jack's fingers.

Then it was over.

Jack let his fingers soften -- again, wondering how Daniel liked it, how he did this for himself; but there would be time to learn that, to learn it all, give it all back -- and left his fist curled loosely around Daniel's still-firm shaft. He had recovered enough now to kiss, and so he pressed three or four firm wet kisses to Daniel's nape and Daniel's shoulder. Then he let his head rest on the pillow, behind Daniel's head.

Four breaths, five, and Daniel hadn't moved. He was still holding Jack's arm, a hand locked around his wrist. He was still tense.

"Baby," Jack whispered, and kissed his neck once more.

No response.

 _Oh, shit._

Jack got up on an elbow and freed his hand from Daniel's grip to stroke down his forearm.

"Please tell me you really wanted that," Jack said. Something in his belly was going cold.

"You know I did," Daniel said, but he didn't move. Jack leaned to get a glimpse of Daniel's face.

"Then what's wrong."

"Nothing."

Jack sighed, and put his head back down on the pillow behind Daniel's. Son of a bitch. How could he have been so fucking optimistic? How could he think they could come together, finally, truly, without some kind of classic, colossal fucking misunderstanding?

This sucked.

He was still inside Daniel, buried in that fucking beautiful heat, and his dick was fast deflating under the pressure of all this negative emotion. So close, and yet so far. Yeah, some cliches were cliches for a reason. He'd hoped that one didn't apply to the two of them any more. Apparently he'd been wrong. He winced and shifted and pulled out, gathering Daniel more firmly against him as he did, as a way of softening the impact of losing that fullness. Men, women, it didn't matter -- if it was anything more than just getting off with a stranger, that moment of emptiness needed a counterweight. Jack knew that down to his bones and it was easy, instinctive, to deliver the hug. It was as easy with Daniel to offer that embrace as it had been with Sara. In fact, Daniel was the first person since Sara with whom it had been more than a polite duty.

No surprise there.

But Daniel was most emphatically not on the same page. As demonstrated by the tension in his body.

Jack stared at the sharp, clipped line of hair on the back of Daniel's neck and drew an exasperated breath. He had to consciously carve the annoyance from his voice. To soften it.

"Okay, I'm getting that I'm not the one with the intimacy problem of the two of us. Big shock there."

That might have startled Daniel, but if it did, the only way he showed it was to tighten his grip around Jack's wrist. "Really, yeah, it is a big shock." His voice was neutral. Resigned, even.

It made anger flare in Jack, anger that immediately washed into chagrin. "So what is it? What's the matter? You apparently don't believe this, but I really do want to know what's wrong. Is it more second thoughts about sex? You don't really bottom? You don't love me? What?"

Daniel used his grip on Jack's wrists to push free of his arms. He rolled until he was facing Jack, and raised on an elbow. His eyes were snapping now, narrowed and angry, too bright, like sunlight on tropical water. Way too bright for someone who just got off.

"It's none of that, goddammit. It's none of those things, none at all." He glared at Jack for a minute, then flopped onto his back and put his hands to his eyes, scrubbing. "It's just-- it's just so goddamn easy for you. You decide to make your move, you ask me out, you bring me home. It was finally time, according to you, and so you did it. Jesus." He brought his hands down and stared at the ceiling, blowing cold as quickly as he'd blown hot. "It's just so easy. For you to make these incredibly life-changing decisions. So easy to just reach out and take what you want."

Jack cleared his throat. "So, backlog of resentment, much?" He'd expected that Daniel would find it hard to move from friendship to sex, after all these years. And Jack had feared rejection, or, illogically, feared that he'd been wrong about his long-cherished belief that Daniel, underneath all the AF rules and the necessary distance, loved him back. Jealousy, anger -- those, he hadn't expected. Oops.

Daniel was glaring at him again. "I told you that if I thought too much about it, it would be bad. For once I don't want to talk about it and you do; how's that for hilarious."

He threw the covers back and got up. He disappeared into the master bath. Jack heard the shower start.

Jack lay back on the pillow for a minute and forced his breathing to slow. Then he got up and followed Daniel into the bathroom. He put his hand on the towel bar, ready to slide the door open and climb in with him.

But Daniel said, "Don't.... Just don't." He was half turned away, soaping himself.

Jack sighed. Yeah, okay, Daniel was right. This was bad.

He sat down on the toilet seat. He noticed that his hands were gummy with dried lube, and he stood up and washed at the sink and sat down again.

Daniel kept soaping himself under the hot water. The sound of the shower was soothing; like the ocean. Jack had never heard it from out here. When Daniel was done in there, he'd smell like Jack's soap and Jack's shampoo, all night and all day.

Jack said, his voice a little drier than he wanted, "Should I have asked before barging in here?"

"No, no. Shit, we did the showering thing all the time. With hot and cold running Marines, yet. No, Jack, I don't have any issues about showering while you're in here."

Jack decided to let the lecturing-to-stupid tone pass. He watched Daniel rinse his hair and his body. He could look, now. No more stolen glances, no more stern internal warnings against ogling. So he did. And confirmed for himself, one more time, as if he needed confirmation, that Daniel was stunning.

Finally Daniel shut off the water and stepped out into the loud, humid silence. He dripped all over the rug as he slipped past Jack. He looked at himself in the mirror over the sink, then rummaged in the drawers, and found the spare pack of disposable razors Jack always kept, and the shaving gel. He stared at himself in the mirror some more as he shook the can.

Jack got up from the toilet lid and got into the shower. He had no desire to linger. Just a quick soaping of his groin, a quick scrub of his armpits.

As Jack was toweling off, Daniel said to the mirror, through the foam on his face, "It's like this." Jack bit his lip and tried to pay attention. "I'm working without a net here. I warned you that the stakes are really high for me; that if we screw this up I won't be able to stand it." He rinsed his razor and kept shaving. He sounded like he was testifying in court. "Plus, you know, as you've always said: I think too much. So, all that kind of adds up to a rather intolerable level of risk. Emotional risk. Which is, of course, the kind of risk I suck the most at."

Jack sat down again on the toilet lid, which put him just under Daniel's left elbow. He wanted to reach out and touch, so badly. Put his hand on the naked curve of hip, on the jut of bone there. Slide his palm on up, along Daniel's ribs, feel his every breath spread them apart. Instead he sat, unmoving, making himself keep a firm grip on his bunched-up towel, and thought for a minute. "...Does it help if you think about how much I love you? Because that's pretty much all I've got here. Since I doubt we're accurately evaluating the potential quality of the sex yet."

Daniel closed his eyes, as if he had to let the words sink in. Jack reviewed their recent conversation and realized he might have blown past another big milestone without warning. No help for that now.

Jack continued, thinking out loud, "Although you're still right; that's a guarantee that I won't leave voluntarily and I'll hang in here for the issues. But you know how it is. Out there. Shit happens."

Daniel sighed and kept shaving. "Ori happen. Jaffa happen. Replicators happen. Wraith. Untested technology. Speeding trucks with no brakes. Airline--"

"The list, yeah," Jack said, interrupting with a handwave, wincing.

Daniel turned to him, done shaving. He tossed the cheap razor on the counter, stray scraps of gel clinging to his face. "How do you do it? How do you stay in the moment like you do? Dance on that knife's edge without constantly worrying about the future and what could happen?"

Jack smiled ruefully. After all this time, he got this question. He really didn't know how to attempt to answer. It wasn't something he had figured out by conscious thinking. Daniel should know that by now. Shouldn't he? He was a genius, after all.

Jack said, lightly, "To be is to do...."

Daniel smiled, because he knew the rest of the joke. He blotted his face with a hand towel and folded it up and placed it carefully on the sink. It looked like busy work. Jack felt hugely relieved at his cautious, sad smile. Because at least it was a smile. Jack said, "Can we go to bed now? So I can rest up and maybe sleep, and knit up the raveled sleeve of care and so forth? Nurse my damaged ego? Because that was so the worst sex you've had in years. Maybe ever."

"No, actually it wasn't," Daniel said, briskly, and he turned to Jack and put his fists on his hips for a second, and looked at Jack, really looked at him, scanned him up and down, and then he turned and left the bathroom.

Jack followed. They turned out lights. They got in bed, and Jack pulled him in close and Daniel let him. Daniel turned so that they were face to face in the near-dark, their bodies damp and a little chilled. It still felt sublime to Jack. As much as the sex, he'd wanted Daniel here. With him. Near him, touching. All the time. And then Daniel sighed and wrapped Jack even closer. The press of his arms was almost too tight, and his face was pressed against Jack's shoulder. Moved by instinct, riding a wave of tenderness that was as intense as it was surprising, Jack put a hand on the back of his head, cupping. Daniel moaned.

"Too sappy?"

"No. No. Just...." He pushed his face harder against Jack's neck, and Jack realized with a jolt what he was hearing in Daniel's voice. Daniel was on the verge of tears. That one touch, prompted by an urge to comfort, made Daniel choke up. Jesus.

Daniel said, his voice muffled, "I love you too. And I can't lose you. But that's what always happens. Always."

Big lightbulb. The biggest. _Doh._

Jack felt as dumb as Homer Simpson. Of course that was Daniel's biggest issue, the most familiar elephant in the room. Everyone he had ever loved, had gone. Had died. Badly. Painfully. Jack tightened his arms.

"I get that, now."

Daniel cleared his throat and shifted so that his face wasn't pushed quite so hard against Jack's neck, but he didn't let go. "Yeah. I guess you do. I figured you of all people would."

Jack could hear him thinking, but despite that, despite everything, it was late, and they managed to sleep. Both of them. Wrapped close.

Morning brought a steely-eyed Daniel; all focused determination and will. But all of it was, for the moment, directed away from Jack, who woke when Daniel got out of bed. Jack blearily watched him rummage in drawers and come up with a pair of Jack's pajama bottoms -- the comfy fuzzy ones MalDoran had given him for Christmas, in fact. Daniel put them on, and then without a backward glance left the bedroom.

Jack stayed alert long enough to identify that Daniel had found the coffee beans from last night, still in the grinder. So he was definitely on that mission, that coffee-making mission. Which, combined with the evidence of the pajama pants, pointed to Daniel staying for breakfast. That settled, Jack allowed himself to lapse back into a doze.

It seemed like about 30 seconds later when Daniel climbed into bed beside him, carrying a fresh cup of coffee. It smelled splendid and it woke Jack up completely. He didn't even have to drink it to get the benefit. The scent was enough. Daniel sat there, legs stretched out under the covers, drinking. He still looked determined, but not angry, and he didn't have his glasses on.

Jack rolled to his side and slid a careful hand to rest on Daniel's thigh, under the covers. Daniel didn't flinch, and he didn't feel too tense. Jack sighed with contentment.

After a while, Daniel set his cup -- presumably empty -- on the nightstand. He put his hand over Jack's, but on top of the covers.

Jack smiled. "Good morning, Mary Sunshine," he said. He knew perfectly well that that was sideways to Mitchell's pet name for Daniel and he wanted to see if he could dislodge Daniel's train of thought, whatever it was. It was always nice to get verification that Daniel was among the living, present and accounted for. Too often for Jack's comfort, he was listening to voices no one else could hear.

At Jack's words, Daniel's brow unknotted a little and he leaned back and huffed out one rough chuckle.

"That's in the moment, right there," Jack said, his voice rusty with sleep, "you and that coffee. So you do know how to do it."

Daniel smiled. Jack smiled too. It was like the happy sort of contagion.

Daniel turned, scrunching down to kind of loom over Jack, leaning on his elbows, looking serious all of a sudden. Jack, lying on his back, cocked his head to indicate receptiveness and waited. Daniel was attempting to stare him down. Or something.

All in one motion, Daniel grabbed the edge of the comforter and flipped it and the blanket and sheet down. They landed, rumpled, around Jack's knees. Jack raised his eyebrows, and glanced at Daniel's middle. He was already hard.

He met Daniel's eyes again, and let one corner of his mouth curve up.

Daniel bit his bottom lip and sat. He began running slow, firm hands over Jack's skin, seemingly at random. Exploring.

Jack's eyes wanted to roll back in his head. He just lay there, his hands palms up at his sides, his head rolled toward Daniel, and ... felt. Absorbed.

Those long-fingered hands, surprising in their strength, their delicate calibration of touch, all that expertise, all that curiosity, directed at him. It was intoxicating.

He registered that Daniel was leaning over him, bringing skin all along his skin, a full-length warmth, and then Daniel's lips brushed his ear.

"Turn over," Daniel whispered, and Jack shivered. He turned.

Daniel made a noise, a kind of a groan, and Jack felt him slide down toward the foot of the bed, and then Daniel's bulk and weight were settling between Jack's legs, pressing them apart. And Daniel was kissing his buttocks. Jack groaned, in surprise both at the act and at how fucking good it felt, and then Daniel slid and shifted some more (must be kneeling on the goddamned floor, off the end of the goddamned bed) and then he gently pulled and opened and holy fuck, that was his _tongue_. In Jack's _ass_.

More groaning, incoherent and enthusiastic, and it was all warmth and the scent of coffee and skin and the sticky friction of Jack's leaking dick against the sheets, and finally when he was straining his thighs apart to get more of Daniel's tongue up inside him, Daniel leaned back, breaking the contact, but Jack didn't even have time to groan in protest, because then Daniel's slick fingers were pressing inside him.

Jack had no idea how many they were, but they felt so good, taking up where the gentle muscular probing of Daniel's tongue had left off, then going deeper, stroking -- a white explosion, blooming behind his eyes, and Jack lurched and cried out and realized he was pushing his ass up and toward Daniel, blatantly grinding back against those fingers. He called Daniel's name. Yeah, he knew what was next, now. And it was not nearly as drastic or as radical a step as perhaps it should have been.

"Jack." Daniel sounded hoarse. "I'm going to fuck you now. Is that all right?"

"Slow," Jack gasped. "Take it slow."

"Been a while, huh," Daniel said, and shit, that was more fingers. The stretch was huge; much different from a moment before. Jack's ab muscles contracted and he tried to relax his thighs and that helped. Daniel had used a shitload of lube, too, and -- oh, God, there, there....

"Never, actually. This is all a first." His voice sounded strange -- breathless and choked. And at his words, Daniel seized up. The relentless gentle tight stroking inside him stopped. Daniel's hand seemed to shake a little. Jack needed the slide, the movement, which was really starting to feel spectacular, but not when it stopped. When Daniel stopped, it was just something shoved up his ass.

"If you don't keep going I will have to hurt you. Badly," Jack said.

"Oh my god."

"Come on Doctor Jackson. Fuck your virgin flyboy."

"Oh my god. And stop it. No silly nicknames. Not that."

"Made you laugh. Now, Daniel. Now would be good."

"You're sure--"

"Enough with the talking."

"Jack..." But this last wasn't preface to a question or a refusal. It was just an endearment, as Daniel got with the program. He pulled out slowly, and Jack heard him moving as he did. Then immediately his slippery hands put Jack's hips where Daniel wanted them, and the thick warm head of Daniel's dick replaced his fingers in Jack's ass.

Jack managed not to tighten up around it. He was still panting. The first push felt a lot like all those fingers had. And as Daniel pushed in, Jack pushed back, betting Daniel might need the confirmation that this wasn't something Jack was simply enduring.

On that thought he said, "It's good," though thinking was nearly impossible now.

So tight, so slick and big -- he'd never before felt this pleasure, from having something inside, from feeling himself... filled. Stretched open, penetrated. Fucked. And it just kept going, and the deeper Daniel went the better it got. His fingers were shorter, and made a different shape inside. This was so much more -- a solid, thick penetration, a radical kind of opening. His body was swallowing Daniel. Daniel was inside him. So close. So close.

Blood pounded in Jack's ears and he realized he was gripping the top of the mattress and his thigh muscles were singing and he was hard as a rock.

"God, Daniel," he said.

"Baby," Daniel said, and Jack hitched out a laugh and shot back, "We said no pet names," and Daniel choked, "Right, sorry," and he was laughing too, and then it got all blurry and breathless and Jack felt turned inside out, obliterated, because now he got it -- all those jokes about the prostate that were purely academic before. God, it was good. So deep, so overwhelming. God, Daniel was fucking him. And now Daniel was crying his name, and clutching his hips, and collapsing over him, and it was like one orgasm, Daniel's on the inside, Jack's on the outside. Jack somehow managed to heave them aside out of the wet spot and lay there, holding tight to Daniel's arms around him. He'd be sore as hell in a few minutes, but Jesus. Jesus.

Daniel was quiet. Too quiet? Again?

Jack squeezed his hand and swallowed and said, still breathless, "Okay, this is so unfair. Two awesome orgasms for me. How was that for you."

"I'm good," and Daniel cleared his throat. "Who's counting?" Daniel put a hand between them and eased out, slowly, making Jack wince a little, and Daniel got up. Jack, of course, was familiar with this part, too, from the other side. Very gentlemanly, our Daniel, but of course he would be. Jack waited, smiling a little to himself -- was this sort of the bottom's prerogative? To lie here in the afterglow, content and spent? Daniel came back with a warm towel and cleaned Jack up. Jack caught his eye, put his hands on Daniel's arms as he worked, and Daniel, thank God, was willing to look at him. He looked disheveled and sweaty. His own afterglow was definitely becoming.

When he came back to bed, Jack grabbed him and pulled him close. Jack felt relieved, and tender, and rubbed a little raw, but that glowing burn deep inside was a new and pleasant thing -- definitely well-fucked was a feeling he wanted to repeat. Maybe they'd both last longer next time. He'd pushed Daniel to the edge too fast, admitting he'd never done it before.

Daniel held him. Daniel kissed him and put his face against Jack's neck. He'd brushed his teeth or used the Scope while he was in the bathroom. Jack kept his arms snugged around him, kept their feet tangled. He thought about coffee. Soon.

Daniel said, in a normal kind of conversational tone, "I made an assumption. I fell for the Colonel Kickass stereotype. Me, who should know better. I assumed that if you were a top you'd be much harder to convince to do that. I assumed that when you agreed immediately that you'd done it before. It's embarrassing to admit that I apparently have a bunch more assumptions that you do about what it means to bottom."

Jack smiled. "Aha! Perhaps one unanticipated benefit of life as a closet case. I have no investment in the stereotypes of gay sex." Daniel chuckled. "Maybe... maybe in the past the guys who went for me, and there are just a few, not very many, and all overseas, a while back, maybe they assumed the same thing? And that's why I never did that. They took the lead, but they bottomed. I never questioned it. I was going along, doing this rare furtive thing. Just taking it when it came along, you know?"

"God, Jack," and Daniel leaned back and looked him in the eyes again.

"Can I say it again?" Jack said. Daniel looked puzzled.

"I love you," Jack said. Daniel shook his head. He had a look of wonder on his face, and Jack knew that look -- it was how he felt when he realized his dreams were coming true, in flesh and blood, in living color, for real. Right here, right now.

Daniel pulled him in again. Jack listened to their heartbeats.

"But," Jack continued, and Daniel tensed. Oops. He hastily continued, "nothing bad, but my stomach's gonna start growling and ruin the moment. Let's get up and eat something. And I haven't had any coffee yet," he pretended to pout.

Daniel slapped him on the ass, gently. "Whose fault is that? I made it and everything. Hours ago."

"Well, you brought in the towel. I thought maybe the coffee service was another perk for the guy on the bottom."

Daniel was rolling his eyes, grinning, as he pulled on the same pajama bottoms he'd worn earlier. Jack found a bathrobe.

They went out to the kitchen, stumbling a little from walking too close and getting tangled in the narrow hall, both out of practice with that. They both had more coffee. Daniel made toast; Jack had a bowl of cereal.

They sat at the bar. Jack contemplated Daniel's mussed hair, the golden shimmer of his morning beard, the way he picked up crumbs with a fingertip and poked them in his mouth, seemingly unconscious he was doing it.

"I could step out and get the paper," Daniel said, but he didn't get up. Instead he reached for Jack's hand. Such a simple touch, and so, so stunning, just that. Just the caress of Daniel's hand on his, the sweet feeling of fingers curving around his, that careful, loving pressure.

Mention of the newspaper took Jack's thoughts out of the bed, which he mentally had never left, and reintroduced the wider world to his awareness. More was the pity.

"You still want to transfer to Atlantis as soon as possible?" Jack asked, making Daniel purse his lips.

Daniel said, "You know this weekend changes everything. Doesn't it for you?"

"Of course."

Daniel regarded him, and the steely expression was back, but this time Jack was almost certain he knew what was behind it: Fear.

"It doesn't matter what I want," Daniel said. "I can't go anywhere or do anything selfish until this Ori thing is over. Or at least contained."

Jack sighed. Not the time to ask about transferring Daniel to D.C., then. "And when the Ori thing is over? There's always going to be the next enemy, Daniel. I thought you realized that. Student of history that you are."

Daniel shook his head and looked away.

Jack put a hand on his shoulder and leaned toward him. He knew Daniel felt extra-responsible for the Ori thing, but.... "You gotta seize the day. Don't you remember your Latin?"

Daniel looked at him sidelong. "Latin or Ancient? I lose track."

Jack leaned closer, cupped that stubborn jaw in his hand.

Daniel burst out, "And we're back to this: How can you risk this? Personally, professionally, everything-ly."

Jack said, "We risked it every day before, for all these years, without acknowledging it, and yet now that you can have what you're telling me we both always wanted, that's harder?"

"Not harder. Scarier."

"You know I have no more idea than you do how the latest war will end, or where. I don't know when we can quit or if we should, or what you should do in the meantime. I thought you were hellbent on Atlantis, for whatever damn reason, until the Ori thing got stirred up. If you want me to tell you how it's all gonna be, give you some kind of, of predictor, or guarantee, you know there's no such thing."

"No, in fact quite the reverse," Daniel said, bitterly. "People could die. People have died."

"So we do it together," Jack said, urgently. "Keep doing it, but together. More together now. That's all I got. We do it together."

Daniel looked a little incredulous, perhaps at his pronouns. Their gazes held, the moment spooled out, and Daniel's face softened. "I'll try," he said.

"That's good enough for me," Jack said, and leaned in and kissed him. Definitely it was a moment. The kiss was tender and long and it made Jack's dick stir again under the skirt of his robe. He shifted, and Daniel, reading his body language immediately, smiled against his mouth.

"So, Colonel Kick Ass. In the spirit of no more assumptions, how do you feel about blow jobs?"

Blow jobs were very very good.

Jack actually, despite what he'd told Daniel about his history and about assumptions to be made about bottoming and topping and assertiveness, had figured out years ago how oral his sexual instincts were. Maybe it went along with smoking; who knew. But when they were back in bed, caffeinated and fed, Jack turned himself around to bring his groin to Daniel's face and vice versa, and from the sound of Daniel's delighted, appreciative moans, sucking while being sucked was on Daniel's list of specially fun stuff to do when you're having sex, too.

Jack closed his eyes and hung on, wrapped in Daniel, filled with Daniel. No assumptions here, definitely, but it was simply beautiful. Easy to get lost in -- Daniel's mouth was so tight, so alive. Daniel's dick was hard and heavy on his tongue, and he tasted wonderful. It was hypnotic, to, finally, feel this in-sync.

Toward the end, Jack slipped careful fingers behind Daniel's balls to press and touch -- no lube, didn't plan that well, but the catch in Daniel's breathing and the sudden extra hardening of his dick were very gratifying. And then when Daniel did the same to him, everything got red and blurry and even tighter, and all too soon Jack was coming, his climax triggering Daniel's. Huh -- even swallowing was like riding a bike....

Nobody was letting go afterward, either. Jack kept his eyes closed and kept himself wrapped up in Daniel's limbs, his head on a knee, his hands exploring the upsidedown curve of hip. The silence seemed peaceful and full.

After a long time Daniel stirred, and moved around, and Jack opened his eyes. Daniel's face was so ... happy. Wow. Daniel settled against him face to face and pulled him close again.

His voice was muffled in Jack's pillow. "You lose the habit, you know? Of reaching out."

"Yeah," Jack said. "I know." Daniel felt splendid in his arms -- warm and strong and solid.

"So," Daniel said, still not letting go, even a little bit, "still best friends too?"

"Always."

And Daniel's arms tightened even more, making Jack breathless. Then Daniel let go just enough to lift his head and kiss Jack on the mouth, with a sandpapery scrub of their beards. He didn't move away when the kiss ended, and so Jack opened his eyes to find Daniel looking at him, fondly, and now, at least for the moment, without fear.

"You want to know why I never remarried?"

Good thing he'd had a decade of experience with Daniel's non sequiturs. "Yeah."

"You really didn't know why."

Jack couldn't resist cupping Daniel's jaw again, running this thumb along Daniel's lush lower lip. "Enlighten me. No, wait. Don't enlighten me; enlightenment is way overrated from what I've observed. Just tell me your answer to this apparently non-rhetorical question."

Daniel kissed him before answering, perhaps an acknowledgement of the sting of two ascensions, the reality of loss. Of uncertainty. Or maybe Daniel just felt like another kiss; who knew. Kissing was good.

"I never got married again because I didn't have to," Daniel said, and then Jack knew what was coming, and he smiled against Daniel's mouth.

"Because I already was," Daniel said, and oh yeah. Carpe diem indeed -- Latin or Ancient, who the hell cared. Because today was shaping up to be a hell of day for seizing, and because now was indeed the time.


End file.
